


I'm A Sucker For You

by WhyNotFly



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ace Subtype: Sex Repulsed but Sex Interested, Consensual Non-Consent, Honestly very light on the explicit stuff, M/M, No Negotiation, Oral Sex, SUPER DUPER SOFT AND FLUFFY, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, but still explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyNotFly/pseuds/WhyNotFly
Summary: Jon curls up tighter in embarrassment, wrapping his arms around himself and skating the tips of his fingers up his arms.  “I just think there’s something appealing about it.  A creature that you can’t reason with, you can’t communicate with, it just does whatever it wants to you and you just get,” Jon shivers, “overwhelmed.”“Okay.  Okay, okay, like,” Martin feels himself babbling.  “Like, hypothetically you mean, though?  Like just as a, a thought exercise?”***Jon explores someintellectual pursuitswith Martin.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 135





	I'm A Sucker For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HermaeusMora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaeusMora/gifts).



> For my lovely darling dearest Artemis, with the fondest hope that you will GET SOME GODDAMN SLEEP now that the holiday season is winding to a close. This piece is.....very silly in a lot of ways and I'm sure you'll know I was thinking of you when I wrote it, but if you like the other one I wrote for you better please disregard this entirely and pretend that was your present all along. I love you. I love your weird decorating sensibilities. This is written in the most loving of teasing tones, I promise.
> 
> Jon is trans and the words used for his parts are folds and dick. If that will upset you, please don't read this fic.
> 
> Thanks to Bloodsbane for giving it a readover for me!

The door handle to Jon’s bedroom is shaped like a tentacle.

Martin stares at it for a few moments, speechless. As if his first time getting to see Jon’s _bedroom_ isn’t nerve wracking enough, the layer of surrealism added by the neatly carved and curving brass tentacle almost breaks Martin’s poor brain in half. He tries to remind himself that it doesn’t mean anything if Jon really likes octopuses, but he has spent so long forcing himself to remember that an invitation into Jon’s bedroom really doesn’t mean what it would mean from most people that the addition of a _tentacle_ nearly sends him entirely over the edge.

It’s just a door handle. You can find anything online these days. Martin takes a breath and follows Jon inside.

“Oh you’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

The inside of Jon’s bedroom looks like an aquarium exhibit. A huge stuffed octopus occupies most of a chair in the corner, with smaller squids and colorful fish piled up all around it. The few books tilted forward enough for Martin to see their covers are painted with pictures of squids, or other deep sea cthulian monstrosities. In the middle of it all, Jon sits, scowling up at Martin from a bedspread printed with coiling tentacles.

“What,” he asks, deadpan, crossing his arms defensively. “I’m allowed to have hobbies.”

“Of course you are!” Martin rushes to reassure him, letting the door swing shut behind him as he steps further into the room. “I just had no idea you were so into octopuses.”

“Octo _pi_ ,” Jon corrects, tersely, “are incredibly intelligent creatures. Humans waste so much time getting excited over the accomplishments of _dolphins_ while octopi have demonstrated the potential for intentionally immoral behavior.”

Martin can’t help but smile as he listens to Jon rant on, a one man army against the imagined audience of misinformed humanity. His forehead wrinkles up when he gets angry and Martin wants to kiss him right there, right between the eyebrows.

“—basically human,” Jon concludes, waving his hands in an elaborate gesture to underscore his argument.

“Well, you’ve got me convinced.” Martin crosses the room and plops down onto the bed with Jon, running his hand over the tentacle design. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about octopi, I’ve never heard you talk about them before.”

Jon goes red and ducks his face in embarrassment, and Martin wants to bite his own tongue. How does he always manage to say the wrong thing?

“I don’t want people to get annoyed,” Jon mumbles.

“Well you aren’t annoying me. I was just a little surprised seeing all of this.” Martin gestures out at the room around them, taking in all the tentacle-laden decor. His other hand slips over and covers Jon’s own, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Not exactly what you expected to talk about when I invited you to my bedroom?” Jon’s voice is heavy with self loathing.

“Oh don’t start with that now,” Martin bats Jon lightly on the arm. “I know you don’t do sex, I was already not expecting anything like that. I just...couldn’t help thinking about some things when I saw the tentacles everywhere. It’s,” Martin lets out a nervous laugh, “it’s a little BDSM-y, y’know? Doesn’t really fit your image.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “I think tentacles belong more in the realm of hentai.”

Martin doubles over, choking on his own breath. He can feel Jon patting his back as he struggles to regain his composure after hearing Jonathan Sims’s voice, the voice that had reprimanded him so often about time sheets and citations, say the word _hentai_.

“H-how do you know that?”

“I do have the internet, Martin. I’m not actually as old as I look.”

“Yeah,” Martin slowly recovers his wits and leans back up to look Jon in the eye. Jon studiously avoids his gaze, the blush spreading out towards his ears. “But how do you know _that_ _specifically?_ ”

Jon stares up at the corner of his ceiling, his eyebrows tightening into a glare as the red beneath his skin deepens. “Y’know...intellectual….pursuits.”

 _“JON?”_ Martin can’t fully process the words coming at him. He feels like his brain is somewhere trapped outside his body, watching his own jaw go slack from shock. 

Jon curls up tighter in embarrassment, wrapping his arms around himself and skating the tips of his fingers up his arms. “I just think there’s something appealing about it. A creature that you can’t reason with, you can’t communicate with, it just does whatever it wants to you and you just get,” Jon shivers, “ _overwhelmed._ ”

“Okay. Okay, okay, like,” Martin feels himself babbling, but it’s the only thing he can do to keep from melting into a puddle of arousal. He sternly ignores the stirring in his pants at the way Jon is talking. “Like, hypothetically you mean, though? Like just as a, a thought exercise?”

“Well it’s not exactly possible to fuck an _actual_ octopus, Martin,” Jon snaps, his discomfort turning to anger in his throat.

“I know _that_ ,” Martin can’t help but frown at Jon’s tone. “I just, I thought the idea of being sexual freaked you out. Something like this, would you actually want it to happen?”

“Even I have _fantasies_ ,” Jon says quietly, and then shifts nervously on the bed, gripping his own arms tighter. “I do...want sex sometimes. Not with anyone specific, just in a...a libido kind of way. My body wants certain sensations and such and I wouldn’t mind having them either, they seem like they would be physically pleasant.”

“Okay,” Martin breathes again, quietly, to give Jon his space. “Okay, but?”

“ _But_ ,” Jon continues, “but I don’t actually _want_ to want those things. The idea of thinking of certain acts, of _desiring_ them and then asking people for them or vocalizing them in any way and then receiving them because I asked for them specifically...it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I don’t want to think of myself as something sexual, I— I can’t discuss doing these kinds of things, I get so panicky.”

Martin scoots in closer as he sees Jon’s shoulders start to wobble. He loops an arm carefully around him and draws him in closer, letting him lean up against his chest.

“I just wish that sex was something that would happen _to_ me,” Jon whispers, so quietly that Martin can barely hear him. “Just have things done to my body to make it feel good without involving my, my consciousness, my consent, at all. How terrible is that?”

“Not terrible at all,” Martin says firmly, squeezing Jon in tighter to his chest. “Plenty of people have fantasies of surrendering control.”

“It isn’t fair though, to ask of you.” Jon turns and buries his face in Martin’s shoulder. 

“Hey now,” Martin takes Jon by the shoulders and pushes him off him until he can look him properly in the eye. “I’ll decide what I’m comfortable with, thank you very much.”

“Right,” Jon drops his eyes again, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

Martin kisses him on the forehead, trying to push all the love and support he can’t put into words into the action. For a poet, he’s awful at getting his feelings across. When he leans back, Jon is staring up at him with those big, dark, hopeful eyes, and Martin wants to make him feel safe and loved and cherished always. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do.

“Okay, here’s what we can do.” Martin nods resolutely and Jon listens, his eyes intent and wanting. “I’m willing to try if you are, doing something entirely without negotiation or prior discussion, without asking you if it’s okay. But if we’re sacrificing negotiation, I need to be able to trust that you will _stop me_ if I do something that crosses your boundaries. Are you going to be alright with that?”

“Maybe it should be a word that isn’t stop,” Jon says, shifting around again, but this time it feels less like nerves and more like impatient excitement. Like he’s subtly shifting his hips back and forth over the bed. Martin swallows nervously. “I might, I might try and push back a little, without actually wanting you to stop.”

“Okay,” Martin says, trying to nod casually through the bolt of heat that goes straight through him. “Well then, how about if you want me to actually stop, just call me by name when you do. I would prefer if you didn’t call me it before that, anyway.” Martin rubs the back of his neck and tries to force out a laugh. “The idea of you saying _no, Martin, stop_ kind of makes me feel terrible.”

Jon looks so stricken by shame and anxiety that Martin almost takes it back, tells him of course he can do anything he wants, Martin will be fine with all of it. But that isn’t what Jon would actually want.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jon says quickly, taking Martin’s face in his hands. “You know I don’t need it.”

“Neither of us _need_ it.” Martin covers Jon’s hand with his own and leans his cheek into the touch, smiling helplessly. “But it’s worth a try. And if we don’t like it we can just never do it again.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and when Martin pushes back gently on his shoulder he topples over easily onto the tentacle quilt beneath him. 

Undoing the button of Jon’s trousers feels like an almost illegal indulgence. Martin’s dick is so hard in his trousers that he fears between losing all the blood there and the way his heart rate has kicked up to dangerous levels, he might actually black out from excitement. If he just took himself in hand he could probably finish right here just from seeing Jon spread out on the bed before him, but this isn’t about him. Not right now.

“W-wait,” Jon whimpers as Martin tugs his trousers harshly down his legs, and instinctively, Martin freezes and looks up at Jon, checking in on him. But Jon just shifts slightly beneath him, rocking his hips minutely and says “M-mister, please,” and Martin knows it’s Jon’s best way of reassuring him.

“Why would I wait when your body is begging for me so desperately?” Martin tries to pitch his voice down a little, sound a bit badass. To his own ears it comes off silly, but Jon’s pupils go wide and dark at his words. Martin slips a hand into Jon’s briefs and slides his fingers through the wetness he finds there. “Clearly something wants this, even if you don’t.”

“No,” Jon moans piteously, even as his body bucks into Martin’s hand. Jon reaches down and grabs Martin’s wrist, trying to tug him away. Martin pulls back out of Jon’s pants and twists out of Jon’s grip. In one quick motion, he lunges forward and grabs both of Jon’s wrists and pins them harshly down to the bed beside his head. Jon cries out and tries to pull against him, but Martin has the size advantage and the leverage. It’s easy to hold him down.

“You’ll keep these hands here if you know what’s good for you,” Martin growls, leaning down to press his lips to Jon’s ear. Underneath him, Jon’s whole body trembles. “This is happening, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“No, sir, please no, please don’t,” Jon whines, but when Martin pulls back, his hands stay obediently in place against the bed. 

Martin shuffles back a bit so that he can get his mouth down between Jon’s legs. He presses his nose into the cloth covering Jon’s crotch, breathing hot against the wetness he can feel almost dripping through the fabric. Martin pulls back a bit and presses his lips to the soft skin on the inside of Jon’s thigh, taking his time to suck the skin between his teeth until it blooms red and purple. He moves a few inches to the right and repeats it, leaving an orderly trail of hickeys curving over Jon’s thigh like the suckers of a tentacle.

“There,” Martin murmurs, mostly for himself as he pets Jon’s thigh. “Now everyone will know what fucked you so good.”

Jon’s breath is coming out in noisy pants as Martin finally peels off his briefs, revealing his slick and swollen folds. Martin swallows the drool rising up behind his teeth. How lucky is he, to be trusted like this by the most beautiful man in the world. And Martin is determined to be worthy of that trust. Even though Jon didn’t want to discuss things beforehand, there’s no reason to push and do something that might make him uncomfortable. Martin just wants to make him feel good.

Martin barely spends a minute with his lips around Jon’s dick before Jon shivers himself apart around him. His thighs come in tight around Martin’s head for just a moment before he collapses back bonelessly to the bed. He hadn’t made a noise, but when Martin peeks up at him, Jon looks entirely spent, sweat shiny on his forehead and his blush spilling down his neck and disappearing beneath his collared shirt.

Martin pushes himself back up to kneeling and fumbles for his own fly, the vision of Jon laying there fucked out and half naked in front of him almost enough to make him come in his pants like a teenager.

“Wait, Martin, wait.”

Martin freezes with his hand around his cock, looking down at Jon who is laboriously pulling himself up against the pillows at the head of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Martin releases his straining erection and crawls forward to help Jon sit up. He glances over Jon’s body, but he seems fine, not frightened or shaking. 

Jon reaches out to the side and snags a tissue off his bedside table, holding it out to Martin. “Semen is disgusting, I don’t want it all over me.”

Martin doubles over laughing. He can’t help it, it’s just so Jon, and it feels like all the tension is draining out of his body drop by drop. 

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Jon says primly. “You told me I needed to express my boundaries. I’m expressing my boundaries.”

“No, you’re right, you did perfect.” Martin wipes a tear from his eye and then takes the tissue out of Jon’s hand, leaning in to kiss his forehead again. “You’re perfect.”

Jon flicks his eyes away, embarrassed. “You were also very good. Thank you.”

With that he rolls off the bed, standing up on wobbly legs. “I’m going to go clean up in the bathroom. You...finish what you’re doing and then we can cuddle.”

Martin raises an eyebrow at Jon and grins. “Like octopuses?”

Jon shakes his head with a hopeless fondness. “No, Martin, like octo _pi_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's to another year, my dear. I hope it wasn't too weird a story for you XD AND A PSA THAT JUST CUZ SOMEONE HAS TENTACLE SHEETS DOESNT MEAN THEYRE INTO HENTAI. Don't let stereotypes stand in your way!!!!
> 
> If you enjoyed this, you can find me on tumblr [@apatheticbutterflies](https://apatheticbutterflies.tumblr.com/) I post lots of writing! And I plan to continue doing that into 2021.


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